


Evanescence

by Mad_Mage



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Secret Crush, Substance Abuse, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-06-24 00:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15618525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Mage/pseuds/Mad_Mage
Summary: "Red needed to apologize for his behavior, he wanted to see her smile at him the way she had used to when they had been on good terms, to be close again. He would give anything, anything to make that happen."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No one is actually dead. I do use the warnings, you know. And no one is going to die. I’m utterly useless when it comes to tragic ends. Now, enjoy :)

The house was dark and eerily silent. It was a large family mansion; too many bedrooms, a swimming pool, a gym, and a tennis court. There was no living soul dwelling between these tall walls, no one to use all the luxuries only lots of money could buy. Not anymore. It was empty, soulless.

A black car pulled in front of the entrance and its dark-skinned driver, a colossus of a man, waited patiently. His name was Dembe, and he was the best friend and personal bodyguard of the Concierge of Crime. Both counted among the most dangerous men alive, and only fools would cross them. Neither of them looked that part tonight.

His employer, his brother, was slumped in the back seat. He appeared to be in his early fifties, short cropped hair, a healthy tan. He gazed at the massive walls overgrown with ivy with the dead, empty eyes, the lack of sleep clearly visible in deep lines of his face. Then Raymond ‘Red’ Reddington took a deep ragged breathed and exited the car. His limbs were shaking, he had to lean on the car for a moment and tightly shut his eyes.

Dembe was with him in a blink.

“Raymond.” The giant’s eyes were red-rimmed, his voice hoarse. The tone was pleading.

“You can either come with me or wait in the car, Dembe. I’m going in regardless.”

The bodyguard nodded once, resigned.

It was so easy to pretend that they were only visiting, that Red’s jet had just touched down and they came to greet her, just to see her for a day or two, bring her little something from their travels and overwhelm her with their adventurous stories. The very nature of Red’s business put him in usually dangerous, sometimes absurd and often hilarious situations.

They both made their way through the front door, but in the sharp, unforgiving light in the entrance hall, reality slapped them in the face brutally. Their clothes were dirty and torn. Dembe had been shot - it was thankfully only a flesh wound on his upper arm, no lasting damage. Red had blood everywhere; it was on the vest of his fine suit, on his jacket, the sleeves of his shirt. He had it on his hands.

He had refused to change. He had refused medical help for his bruises and scratches and possible concussion from his tumble down the steps of his jet. He had refused to wash the blood off because it was _hers_. It was her blood, and he could not bear to simply wash it down the drain, to dishonor the sacrifice she had made for him.

He blinked several times, his eyes brimming with tears, and started trudging up the stairs. The house which he had given her and sometimes visited was so cold. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago she had walked these walls, that it was alive, full of staff and her presence.

Now, there was no one. Her civilian employees always got a few days off when she left for business while her personal security followed her dutifully all around the world.

Red headed for the master bedroom without hesitation, flipping the lights on as he went, trying to bring the house back to life again. It was fruitless – the coldness still seeped into his weary bones. Dembe followed him without protest, subdued.

On the threshold of her spacious room, they stopped for a minute.

In here, her presence still lingered; a forgotten pair of earrings on the vanity, one of her skirts – the blue one – laid out on the bed. Red could swear that he smelled a whiff of her favorite perfume in the air. Maybe she had left in a hurry, or expected to be back soon.

He stepped into the room while Dembe stayed outside in the hallway.

“Look at it! It’s like she will return any minute.” On unsteady feet, he walked towards the bed and touched the blue fabric. “Oh, I love that skirt. She should wear it more often.”

His voice broke on the last words as he collapsed down on the floor and put his shaking hand in front of his mouth to stop himself from sobbing. Now, the color reminded him too much of her eyes. He bit down on his fist and tasted blood – hers, or his, it was hard to tell.

“Raymond, we should not be here,” said Dembe and shifted his weight, rubbing his eyes and wiping away traitorous tears in them. “She would not appreciate us invading her privacy.”

That was true. Not even the servants were usually allowed into her bedroom. Elizabeth was fiercely protective of her privacy. He _knew_ that. He really did. Red got up from the floor only to sit on her bed, shaking his head, trying to clear the haze, snap out of the shock. He could not find any words to justify to his brother why exactly he needed to be right where he was. He needed to erase the vision of her falling down in front of him, shielding him with her own body as they had been exiting his jet. He needed to forget her pale face in the hospital. The prognosis looked bad, she might not make it, and Red had to focus on something else. He needed to surround himself with her – her smell, her presence, her home… Or he would lose his mind.

“Dembe…” He shook his head again. “Just leave me for a few moments… Please.”

 “I’ll step downstairs, prepare some coffee and get us something to eat. We will be needed back in the hospital soon. Raymond, she needs us close right now.”

“Of course, I can’t imagine not being there when she wakes up.”He didn’t want to see Dembe’s face and gazed around the room instead. He knew he would get only a pitying look from his best friend. Red knew that he had not deserved her sacrifice, he didn’t deserve any consolation either. He had been awful to her in the last few months, and he regretted it immensely. If only he could ease the guilt that was slowly gnawing at him from inside. At least a little, for just a moment.

Should she not wake up… Red grabbed her pillow as soon as Dembe disappeared from sight and hugged it close, breathing her in as his tears finally escaped.

She had to wake up. She had to. He wanted to ask her why she had done it. What could have possessed her to catch the bullet meant for him? Did she not understand how important her safety and happiness was for him? Always had been?

Didn’t she know that nothing was worse than losing her?

He had heard the door open again but could not muster the strength and will to move, to raise his head. The lights went off, the door closed silently again, and for the rest of the night, Red stayed where he was. He didn’t fall asleep and watched instead as the shadows in her bedroom moved. The moon disappeared and made room for first rays of sunlight slowly.

Not a religious man, he prayed the whole time.

If he could just understand what he had done wrong to mess up things between them… If she would just wake up and live. If she would just open her eyes again, please.

Red needed to apologize for his behavior, he wanted to see her smile at him the way she had used to when they had been on good terms, to be close again. He would give anything, _anything_ to make that happen.

As he slowly sat up and gazed around, his eyes fell on a thick leather-bound book on her bedside table which had been forgotten there. It looked worn, used a lot – was it her favorite book? Had she read it the night before she had flown to his side? Did it bring her comfort? He knew she was an avid reader and found consolation in beautiful words printed on paper – they shared the same passion here. Was it a poetry collection? Or a novel?

Without thinking twice about it, he reached for the book. Just knowing she had held it in her hands was reason enough for him. However, when he flipped it open and read the first line, he blinked and his hands trembled.

It was her diary written in Russian and in a code he had developed just for the two of them to pass ‘secrets’ when she had been a child and had first begun understand that some things were better kept private. The code was simple enough, but without knowing the key, no one could read it, and Lizzie didn’t know that Red spoke Russian fluently which had been one of his best-kept secrets. She must have felt it was quite safe to have the diary out in the open, or perhaps she had left it there by accident. Red was well aware that he had summoned her unexpectedly. It was a habit of his.

Staring at the diary for long moments, Red felt torn.

God, he knew he should close it and put it down, but he knew just as well that he wouldn’t do that. Information was power in the world he lived in, and insight into her thoughts and feelings was precisely what he felt he desperately needed to make things right again between them. His prayers had been answered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raymond reads the first entry, and some truths are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just got rid of those damned crutches that had me hopping around like an idiot the whole summer. To celebrate the occasion, I went on a writing spree so here’s the next chapter. Thank you for all the kudos and comments. It’s a warm welcome to the Blacklist fandom, makes me feel at home :)

Here I am, sitting in this huge hotel room writing in my brand new diary and thinking about how much and how little has changed over the last ten years.

I’m Elizabeth Scott, and I’ve just sold my soul to the devil, so to speak. As of today, I am one of Red Reddington’s people and it both terrifies and excites me. Red’s protection makes sure I’m mostly untouchable in his world – who in their right mind would dare to cross him? And our connection makes it difficult to set foot in the States again without getting into some serious sort of trouble. I’ve heard that Red’s case agent is very thorough.

I wonder what Sam would say. He never wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but I guess that this propensity to crime just runs in my blood. Of course, being spoiled rotten by the Concierge of Crime is not exactly helpful in keeping me away from the criminal world. I’ve been neck-deep since I was born, anyway.

Sometimes I wish I was an ordinary woman living a normal life without the fear of being abducted and tortured, but that luxury wasn’t meant for me. I made Raymond Reddington the most powerful man alive when I was just four years old, and that put a giant target on my back until he eliminated all of his enemies. When Red took control of the ‘Cabal’ how he likes to refer to his once greatest enemies, the target just stuck. There will always be people wanting to challenge him and take revenge on me for giving him the Fulcrum. Well, I didn’t give him the Fulcrum – I just gave the man who had saved me my singed bunny when he cried from pain while his burns were treated. Try to explain that to an assassin.

For the last ten years, I _tried_ normal life. I went to college, studied business, graduated… then did it all over again to get my second degree in psychology. I dated. God, I almost got married, but I broke poor Nick’s heart by saying him no when he had proposed. I missed the thrill which being close to Red and his associates brought – and I missed them. For the longest of times, I considered Quantico, thinking that perhaps I could catch the bad guys because I have no problems to think like a criminal. Profiling looked good, but the risks were too high. I can’t run away from my past, and the truth is, I don’t want to. People still remember the name Rostova.

I hope that my Dad is proud of me wherever he is now. I really hope he is happy and free of the pain he felt in the last months of his life. I hope he doesn’t mind too much that I contacted Red and asked for a place at his side.

I will be taking over Luli’s job soon, and I’m sorry that we won’t spend much time together. However, I know how she hated the lifestyle – unlike me, she has a family who is not into international crime and only her loyalty to Red keeps her in his services. She was so happy when I contacted them; she looks forward to a safer, boring life. There’s more to it, too, but I can’t seem to put the finger on it. While it’s obvious she respects Red a lot, I’ve noticed she is almost angry at him for some reason. I wonder what this is about.

Dembe is still the same – just bigger and fluffier. I missed him like a limb, especially our movie nights. He is my favorite person, he’s like the big brother I never had. It still touches me when I remember how he always found time between his studies to see a movie with me. He promised our little tradition would continue – with less ice cream and more booze. I can’t wait to catch up with him some more. I guess I will have lots of opportunities to reconnect with my criminal family – and made some new connections.

I’m really curious about Chris Hargrave who is a new addition to the team, replacing Red’s old head of security. He kept staring at me the whole time, probably thinking I was a problem. He’s quite young, but he looks like he knows what he’s doing. I was surprised that Dembe hadn’t taken over the security, but he’s more comfortable keeping an eye on Red personally, and Hargrave has to do a lot of flying around the globe, securing Red’s safe houses, keeping an eye on any potential threats…

Then there was Red. Oh god, I don’t know what to write about him. Maybe I just shouldn’t write anything, but I feel I need to put it on paper, or to say it out loud at least once and then keep silent. Red…

Red’s basically still the same yet totally different. It was a shock to see him again after all those years. I remembered him as a fit man in his early forties, worshipped him as my hero, really. When I later saw some newer pictures of him on the TV, it was quite apparent that his debauched lifestyle had left its mark on him. I could hardly see any resemblance to the man I had known before. I was afraid of meeting some stranger, but there is a lot of the old Red Dad and I used to know.

His voice is the same soothing rumble, and his eyes are just as kind as before. He keeps his hair very short and dresses in fine suits which enhance the broadness of his shoulders and mask his softer middle. Very clever. He’s relaxed and comfortable in the life of a criminal overlord. His ego is unbelievably big, but I like the way he speaks as if he owns the world. He sort of does.

He still looks good, too – and isn’t that going to make my life pretty difficult? Only my luck can get me stuck with a huge fucking crush on the Concierge of Crime. As if getting through puberty wasn’t bad enough…

-.-.-

“Raymond?”

Startled, Red shut the diary closed and looked towards the voice.

Dembe was standing in the doorway, frowning at him. He had changed his clothes, and with that, all the evidence of the shootout was gone.

Red clutched the book to his chest, feeling his heart beating furiously as he swallowed. He longed to open the diary again and reread the last sentences of its very first entry, to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him. He remembered the day of the meeting clearly but could not detect any indication that Lizzie had felt for him anything but fondness. Why would she? It was so out of the realm of possibility that Red had never ever dared to even _think_ about it. Dream? Of course. But to actually allow his mind to wander...

She had met an aging man who had just barely clawed his way out of a deep dark hole of temptations. Oh, Raymond had been in a bad place for years but had managed to chain his demons somewhat because of her impending return to his side.  Her willingness to join their team was still a miracle to him.

Despite Sam’s best efforts, Lizzie had chosen to come to him, to live in the semidarkness of the underworld with him. He had been overjoyed by the prospect of keeping her close and safe within arm’s reach. Lizzie had always been his greatest motivation, so Red had abandoned his self-destructive lifestyle just to avoid disappointing her. He hadn’t wanted her to see him like that, old and drunk and sorry for himself. He had desperately wanted to be a hero in her eyes, and for the longest of time, he really had been according to her written words.

Red’s eyes welled with tears when he was forcefully reminded that it was not true anymore. He had destroyed it, the precious gift she had bestowed upon him. He had broken her trust, he had hurt her with his callous words and behavior… and really, Lizzie was the hero in all of this – brave, selfless and strong.

“My friend?” Dembe suddenly hovered above him, and Red snapped back to reality.

“Coffee?” He offered him a cup, and Red gratefully took it in one hand – the other refused to let go of the diary. Once he got a glimpse into her beautiful mind, Red was unable to relish it. He needed to read it again, to reassure himself of the words.

Lizzie had had a crush on him – and somehow, that knowledge while shocking and unexpected made him warm from inside, pleased him to no end. Once upon a time, there had been something in him that she had found likable.

If he had just known before… if she had just let him know that there had been an attraction or even feelings…

His hand holding the cup trembled a little, and Dembe quickly took it from him while Red managed to rein in the sob of despair and coughed instead. He would have been more mindful of his words and actions around her, he wouldn’t have slipped back into his old ways… not with the prospect of something _more_ with her. He could have worked with attraction, and over time he could have built…

“Raymond, are you alright?” Dembe took him by the shoulder and gently shook him. “I should have insisted on a check-up in the hospital…”

“The hospital, of course.” That was the place where Red was really needed – not moping in her empty house, but sitting at her side and begging for her forgiveness. What had he done instead of cherishing the only thing that really meant anything to him?

“I’m fine, let’s go and see her.” Red got up to his feet, well aware that his brother was now eying the book with curiosity. He didn’t dare to meet Dembe’s eyes, to explain the new low where he found himself. Reading her diary was a desperate action which he could hardly justify even to himself – but not reading it, not understanding what she wanted from him would surely kill him. He needed to read it to know where they stood now.

There was a fire burning in him painfully, singeing what was left of his heart, setting the remains ablaze – she had stopped the bullet, she had saved him. Perhaps, he hoped desperately, there was something left of the old Red which she had found likable, and Lizzie still saw that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, here we are. I’m currently stuck in the middle of season 1 and given my workload, family obligations and other hobbies (and the fact that days have only 24 hours), I don’t see myself making much progress in the next few months. But I went and read some spoilers for the show, the rest is just pure AU. Hope you like the direction this is going – let me know. Love you all, Mage.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red is haunted by past mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay, hope you like it.

June 13, 2012

 

What a night. Dembe and I managed to haul Red into the bed without much trouble – Dembe did most of the lifting – but dear God in heaven, one more time of this and I will scream myself hoarse.

Red’s not that big, but he is heavy like hell. I don’t know how to act in the morning – should I pretend as usual that I didn’t see him vomit all over himself, that it wasn’t me who held him while the tremors wracked his body? I can’t honestly say what’s worse. The scotch or the drugs? Well, he doesn’t smell like a brewery at least when he does drugs.

He is not acting like a drug addict, that’s a relief, but he uses too often. Every time he’s desperate for an escape, he does that. I understand that someone like him with so much pressure needs an occasional way out but this… It can very well escalate into addiction, and that’s not what I want to see. I can’t picture him as a fucking junkie, not Red.

Don’t let me start on his other method of relaxing! I’ve met some seriously fucked up people in this line of work, but only Madeline Pratt has managed to make my blood boil. That woman is everything I dislike in a person, and I’m not jealous here, I’m just stating a fact. She is too confident, too daring, not careful enough and brings only trouble, nothing more. To be fair, she is damn good at her job…And I do like her shoes… and that reminds I need to buy a pair or four. I just don’t understand what’s so great about her… yeah, well, bedroom activities aside. He always drinks more when she leaves. Doesn’t even bother to hide it as much as he used to in the beginning.

I wonder what’s worse for him – the stuff or that woman. I guess it depends if we’re talking about the damage to his health or his bank accounts; just last week she cost us two million in rubies because Red had told her about the transport.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, it’s only some harmless fun,” he says. Harmless fun which has cost us only over eleven million in the four months I’ve managed his finances. No wonder Luli couldn’t wait to get out, no wonder she was so angry at him. I am considering it myself, and I know for a fact that Christopher is getting fed up with it, too. Two of his men were injured, and he has his hands tied. A guy like Chris likes to take action – eye for an eye and all that.

What had happened to him to make him so damaged? Everything is fine – or he pretends it is – and then it just isn’t. Logically, I know that his behavior is rooted in a deep trauma that needs to be addressed… he has so many issues I don’t even know where to start but talking to him about any of it is pointless. The impulse has to come from him; he has to want to get help. I’d be happy to help him, I _do_ have a qualification for that, as these people often seem to forget.

Anyway, Chris asked me out – again. He is sweet in this totally unhealthy obsessed kind of way, and I do admire his persistence, but I turned him down – again. I hope he will get the hint soon, otherwise working with both him and Red will become quite unbearable. I think Chris knows, I’ve seen him watching me with longing and then glance at Red with bitterness. He always watches me and every time our eyes meet, he smiles at me, and it’s like he sees the fucking sun for the first time ever…

-.-.-

Red rubbed his eyes and glanced out of the window but he didn’t see the passing landscape – he saw only Lizzie’s face in his mind eye. He hadn’t noticed that Mr. Hargrave had been interested in Lizzie. It shouldn’t come as a surprise but it did and his blood boiled at the thought. It did also explain some of Hargrave’s behavior, most importantly the abrupt shift from silent and distant to passively aggressive and disagreeable.

Distaste made his upper lip curl, and he almost snarled, baring his teeth. Who the boy thought he was? Well, Raymond closed his eyes. There was not a legitimate reason why a handsome young man like Christopher Hargrave should not be interested in a beautiful young woman like Elizabeth Scott. They even had many things in common – both were born into the life of crime, both were intelligent and gifted in their chosen fields, and standing next to each other, they did look good together…

Red could not envision himself standing that close to Lizzie – not after reading what he had just read. Shame colored his cheeks, and he had closed his eyes tightly, slumping further in the seat.

Lizzie had seen him at his worst when he had given up and let the demons out to play. He had always assumed that it had been only Dembe to help him to bed and never even suspected a thing. Red should have; Lizzie commented on his habits to indulge quite often. What had started as a mention here and there had turned into annoying reproaching which Raymond hated? He remembered bellowing into her shocked face once. After that, Lizzie had dropped the topic.

The same hadn’t applied to Madeline.

Red remembered Lizzie bringing Maddie up so often, commenting dryly how much she had cost them, how Lizzie hadn’t thought that it was good for Red’s reputation, how she doubted that Maddie was not selling them to their enemies. Red had brushed off any attempt to talking about Madeline. Madeline was off limits, just as his recreational amusements.

His relationship with Madeline was _nuanced_. They needed each other if only to reassure themselves that they were not completely alone in their misery. There wasn’t much love between them, it was about lust and the desperate need to feel a human touch. Maddie had her own issues and knowing her as well as he did, he let the occasional issue of money slip because she loved the thrill of stealing from dangerous men and Raymond enjoyed indulging beautiful women.

He hadn’t understood Lizzie’s insistence back then but reading it all from her point of view, he knew how terrible he must have looked in her eyes. She had only seen the results, hadn’t understood the whys and hows. She hadn’t seen the whole picture. Red relished in the way Maddie left him feeling worthless and filthy and utterly deplorable because that was precisely what he deserved when his memories consumed him… And Madeline… after the rough first years in the criminal world, she loved the illusion of having power over men and Red was happy to oblige. Lizzie hadn’t seen two damaged souls helping each other through unbearable times. She saw him broken and didn’t understand that it hadn’t been Maddie’s work but his own.

Destruction of what he loved the most had always been his fault. They were nearing the hospital, but he had some time. Blinking back tears, Raymond opened the diary again a dreaded what he would find in its pages. It could only get worse from here. Lizzie’s stubbornness and his volatile temper didn’t mix well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve made zero progress in watching the Blacklist, but I’m trying to get back to writing when it’s possible. So, I’ll need your help. Is this sort of behavior OOC for Red, or is it ok? What do you think? Thanks for reading and stay tuned :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red's wake-up call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, life happens. Now... Enjoy and don't be shy to leave a comment :) I love hearing from you, guys :)

December 25, 2012

 

I miss the man who Red used to be. I miss how we joked at the beginning of our working relationship when I thought we might be friends. How we discussed foreign customs and cuisine, talked about his favorite music and our favorite books. He read me out loud once, and I wanted to listen to him forever. Stupid me.

I feel so used now. I’m here, never away from his side and picking him up when he falls… and it just doesn’t make any sense. Why am I doing this? He has me wrapped around his little finger. I’m like a dog sitting faithfully at his feet, waiting, just waiting for a pat on the head when Red feels like it.

Pratt, on the other hand, has his absolute attention whenever she drops by. I do understand that Red needs to escape every now and then from the harsh realities of his life. I’ve heard him screaming from his sleep often enough to know that under the persona of a ruthless criminal is a man who was once upon a time a father and a husband and who led a normal life. That life I only dreamt about. Red is not like me. Deep down, even after decades, he struggles with his position. He doesn’t fool me anymore – I _see him_ and thanks to that, I see myself more clearly.

I wonder what is wrong with me to not feel ashamed of my actions and decisions. In Red’s services, I’ve shot seventeen people so far, and my conscience never bothered me. Perhaps it is so because I killed in self-defense, or just simply because my world has always been in shades of grey, no false morals. You can be either an ally or a threat.

My nightmares are never about my crimes. Sometimes, they are about Red giving up altogether. He hangs to this life by a thread, that’s obvious, and I fear the day when that thin lifeline is gone. Why is it Maddie? No fucking idea. It will lead to a disaster.

When I see how he looks at her, it hurts. I know that staying in Red’s employ does me no good, but it seems I can’t put myself above him. Somehow, he matters to me more than my pride and my comfort. My hurt is irrelevant when he needs someone to drag him back from the abyss every time Pratt lets him sink into the darkness.

It’s Christmas, and I knew it would be tough for him but tonight? It was a close call, and I can’t seem to stop shaking. He died. Raymond Reddington was dead for a full minute until we managed to start his heart again. He overdosed and she just left him there on the floor in his own vomit and disappeared into the night. She had a contract to fulfill or something. That bitch.

I hate myself for being this stupid, for feeling this way, for even considering working with him in the first place. I hate myself for doing to Chris the very same thing Red is doing to me. Chris doesn’t mind and says that he is patient, that I can take all the time in the world, but I can see my own pain reflected back at me every time I gaze into his beseeching eyes.

Being in love is a horrible feeling.

-.-.-

The car stopped, but Raymond remained seated, unmoving. Then Dembe opened the door and placed his hand on Red’s shoulder, “We’re here.”

Red-rimmed eyes looked up at the tall bodyguard, and Red’s expression shattered like a crystal vase meeting the floor. They were at the hospital, indeed, but Red didn’t want to move. He didn’t feel he deserved to breathe the same air as Lizzie. He wanted to crawl into a deep dark hole and die. It never had been Maddie. His lifeline never had been someone as superficial and fickle as Madeline Pratt. How could Lizzie not know? Why hadn’t he told her, shown her?

Oh, right, because he had been busy being a blind idiot, wrapped in his little escapades and too scared to pay too much attention to Liz. What she obviously didn’t know was that Red had always had trouble focusing in her presence. She was dazzling, breathtaking, and simply perfect and he hadn’t dared to look at her for too long. It would have surely caused his abused heart a failure.

“Dembe, what happened on 25th December 2012?” he asked softly, the diary close to his chest. He didn’t remember much of those Christmas. “What happened that night?”

Dembe blanched and looked down at the book with a frown. He connected the dots quickly, and his frown deepened.

“You should not read that,” he spoke just as softly and reached for the diary. “Liz would not want you to know her personal thoughts.”

Red clutched it to his chest and convulsively moved from Dembe’s reach. The diary was the most important thing in the world right now. It was the only connection he had to Lizzie, the closest to having her he had ever been. He liked the idea that he was cradling a tiny fragment of her very soul close to his heart.

“Was I dead?” he croaked. “Was I?”

“Yes.” Dembe took a step back and disappeared from his line of sight. Only his sorrowful voice reached him. “Elizabeth was the one who managed to start your heart and she spent the rest of the night monitoring you.”

He had almost died several times but to go like this? It was painfully embarrassing. He never wanted his own weakness to bring him down, to almost kill him. It had to stop, he needed to stop doing this to her.

Raymond slowly got out of the car, and his eyes found Dembe waiting at the main entrance. Unable to meet his eyes, he asked, “Why didn’t you say something?”

His brother gave him a sad smile and answered, “There wasn’t a point.”

But there was _now_. Red nodded and swore to himself that there was now. Lizzie would see.

-.-.-

 

April 20, 2013

 

That’s it, then. Oh, my hands are shaking so badly I can barely hold the pen, but I need to write it down, to make it real. I asked him for a home, for a permanent residence. Said I was tired of living in hotel rooms and changing safe houses every two days. When he started to defend his life style, I said I was getting claustrophobic in his presence.

He gave me this wounded look as if I have just betrayed him and the ensuing fight was _huge,_ and I screamed back at him like I lost my fucking mind. He has no idea what he has been doing to me, not the slightest idea. I’m just glad he doesn’t see how much I need him – which is the reason why I have to get out of his company. I can’t let him hurt me like this and I can’t tell him how much it destroys me… not when I know he doesn’t do it on purpose. It’s not his fault that he is slowly killing me. He just doesn’t know, and I’m tired of trying to talk some sense into him.

Eventually, Red agreed to find me a house I could use, somewhere in the UK under the condition that I’d be available to him at all time. Modern technology is a blessing in this regard – I really don’t have to be close to him to manage his finances, and we don’t have to actually see each other often. That way, he can continue doing what he just so loves to do, and I can try to find myself again. I’m sick of this person he has made me into…Funny idea, though. It’s easier still to hate her than to hate him. Fuck you, Red.

I think that burning bridges is good right now. I hope some distance will help to ease the pain and that in time I will be able to look at him without feeling like dying. I hope that one day soon, I will look at Christopher the way he deserves – like he is the fucking sun. But I’m terribly afraid that I’ll forever live in the semidarkness of eclipse.

-.-.-

Red closed the diary and looked down the hall at the slumped form of Christopher Hargrave. From what he had gathered, the man hadn’t left the hospital in the last 33 hours. His blue suit had dark stains on it.

Raymond shuddered when he realized that it was Lizzie’s blood. Watching the man gaze around with a lost expression, Red realized that he wasn’t the only one wrecked with what had happened at the airport, he wasn’t the only one _loving_ Lizzie.

Swallowing hard, Raymond continued to observe Mr. Hargrave. He had had him vetted before he had given Chris a job in his security team and the boy had proved himself many times. He was dependable, loyal, rich – the only heir to the infamous empire of Scottie Hargrave, even though he had done his best to escape that infamy. The young man had studied to be a teacher, but his mother’s world had pulled him back soon, and young Chris had found himself holding a gun instead of a pointer, despising his family legacy yet unable to let go of it. He was the good boy gone sociopath, but these kinds of things happened to people in their world. You either adapted or died. His story strangely paralleled Lizzie’s.

Raymond had never hated anyone more than he hated Christopher Hargrave at that moment – for being more suitable for Lizzie than Red.

Hargrave lifted his eyes then and scowled darkly.

Raymond liked what he saw in the other man’s gaze: the hatred was mutual. They both knew that Hargrave was so much better for Lizzie, and they both knew that Lizzie didn’t want him. It made Red warm and some of the terrible tension in his body left. Despite all the unintentional hurt he had caused her, Lizzie loved him still as her own words reassured Red from the pages of her diary.

He smirked smugly and nodded at the younger man. Hargrave turned away, clenching his fists. How very satisfying.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red’s rival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry for the delay. I’m not going to make excuses just know that I’m really sorry. Now, enjoy :)

November 3, 2013

 

It has been three weeks since Chris resigned as Red’s security head and asked to be transferred here, to oversee my safety. He said he had missed me and that just being close to me was enough for him. His presence makes me less lonely, and less reminiscent about the past two years, makes me miss _that_ life and Dembe, Kate and Red less. Today, Chris even made me pancakes and while I do hate them, it was the sweetest thing a grown up man who was not my relative has done for me in the last ten or so years. So, when he proudly presented them to me, I kissed him. It just happened and I don’t regret it.

Kissing Chris was nice. He is nice, he is good for me, and we are on the same page. I am well aware that he is a sociopath but that’s just perfect for me. I am no better. Working for Red has shown me my true colors. I am my parents’ daughter – a thief, a killer, able to lie and cheat my way out most situations. The past is something we cannot change and future is what we make of it. I’m more like Chris than Red in this.

He was so surprised that he dropped the tray and my breakfast ended up on the floor. I hope I can now move on, let go of these stupid feelings for Raymond Reddington. I hope that his visits stop bringing me pain and start bringing me joy of seeing my two friends, my family. That’s how I need to see him. Like a friend. He and Dembe are coming later tonight. I think we could turn it into a delayed Halloween celebration. Should be fun.

-.-.-

He remembered the trip. Lizzie had been in a better mood than usual and he had thought that she had been happy to see them. Red had been certainly ecstatic to see her but to actually know that the little heartwarming smile on her face had been caused by pancakes and Hargrave? It was hell.

Raymond felt numb and he reread the entry several times just to be sure he had understood the words correctly. Was this awful thing tearing at him from the inside exactly the same feeling his Lizzie had felt every time she had seen him with Madeline?

He couldn’t breathe, he just could not breathe. And what was this roaring sound filling his ears?

Red got up abruptly and blinked, panic seizing him as he stood there unsure why he had sprang to his feet in the first place. The diary fell to the floor and he moved to the nearest exit, black dots clouding his vision, his heart hammering in his chest like it was going to explode. He could not believe it.

Taking large gulps of the cool fresh air, he leaned against the door and closed his eyes. The initial blind panic was regularly replaced by furious anger directed at Hargrave, pancakes, and himself. He remembered how the boy had asked for a transfer, presenting evidence that as Reddington’s financial manager, Lizzie had been in danger.

That had been a clever move – getting to her far from where Red had been able to intervene. And Raymond, as the blind fool he was, had let him go with his blessing thinking good riddance. How he could have missed all of this? Lizzie’s emotions towards him, this… this _fixation_ the boy had developed towards her. Dembe’s silent reproach and his insistence to visit her more often made more sense. He drank less when he was around Lizzie, no doubt about that.

Someone knocked on the glass and Red turned to see the haggard face of Christopher Hargrave. It was like waving a red flag in front of an enraged bull and he swallowed, trying to keep his rage in check.

The boy opened the door and stuck his head out, asking, “Mr. Reddington, are you alright? Should I get Dembe?”

“Ah, Christopher.” Red sneered and tugged at the hem of his vest to keep his hands busy “No, thank you. You have done – or perhaps I should say you haven’t done, depends on how we look at it – enough already. In any case, you are fired.”

“Fired?”

Hargrave pushed his whole body through the door and frowned down at Red who blinked at him theatrically.

“Aren’t you a bright one?”

“May I ask why now, sir?”

“And a polite fellow, too!” boomed Red and clasped his hands together. He wanted to smash Christopher’s head through the glass door. “Yes, well… let us just say that as the head of Elizabeth’s security, you have failed quite spectacularly. Isn’t that a reason enough?”

Hate flashed in his eyes as Hargrave took a step closer, glaring at Red.

“Between the two of us, Reddington, you are the one who should have gotten shot, but be my guest and blame everyone else but you… Cowards do that a lot, I’ve heard.”

Before Red could break all of his metacarpal bones and hit him in the face, Hargrave stepped back and shrugged his broad shoulders, giving him a look of contempt. “Rot in hell.”

With that, he quickly opened the door and disappeared inside.

Who did he think he was? Braver, stronger men had offended Red much less than him and paid with their lives. Grimacing, Raymond took deep breaths to slow his heartbeat. Lizzie was inside of the building and while Red would like nothing more than to pull out his gun and put a bullet between Hargrave’s eyes, it wasn’t the right moment. He could not start another shootout, not in the middle of the morning with civilians everywhere.

It took Raymond another ten minutes before he was calm enough to return inside himself and when he slumped in the uncomfortable plastic chair he had been occupying earlier, there was no sign of Christopher Hargrave.

And there was no diary. Red panicked, dropping down and frantically searching for it on the floor. He just hoped that that boy hadn’t taken it. Hargrave must have seen it on occasion. “Where is it? Where?!”

Silently as a ghost, Dembe approached him with the book in his hand. Raymond stared at the journal for a second and then he raised his eyes to Dembe’s face, wordlessly pleading with his brother. After a moment’s pause, he offered it to Red.

“You look like you could use some solace, brother. If this brings you any peace, who am I to deny that to you?” Shaking his head, he moved to sit down, crossing his arms over his chest. He gave Red another long look. “It seems that this day is the day when we all fail her. Next time, though, I will choose to protect her dignity and secrets over yours, Raymond. Be aware of that.”

“Of course. I won’t put you in this position again, I swear.” Red sat next to him and shielded his eyes with his left hand, the brightness of the hospital lights too much for his tired eyes. In his right hand, he held the diary tightly. He was afraid to read it and find out that he had opened his eyes too late, that maybe Lizzie’s heart belonged to that boy, now. It would surely break him. A lot could have happened in the months separating that November entry and this brutal, painful day.

No matter how he tried to look at the events of the past 82 hours, he could not detect anything different in the way Lizzie had looked at him and talked to him. Perhaps… Maybe… _Yes_. There had been less tension between them. Raymond swallowed and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the diary tighter. He dreaded what that could mean. What if Lizzie had truly let her feelings for him go? Raymond was afraid that what little solace he had found in reading her journal was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m personally not fond of Tom Keen but I think I might like this version of him a bit. What are your thoughts, guys? ;) Love, Mage


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie's husband. Wait, what?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, my life had been kind of crazy these past months but it’s going to get a bit better. Here is the next chapter and I hope you’ll have fun reading it.

_December 24, 2013_

 Another Christmas is just around the corner and I can’t stop thinking about Red, how he’s managing. I need to call Dembe in the morning to make sure that the idiot hasn’t done something irreversible but for now, I’m thinking only pleasant thoughts. Chris confessed that he wasn’t fond of the holiday season much and I’m trying to do my best to change his opinion about this particular time of the year. It’s always been my favorite. I remember Dad sitting down with me in front of the fire most evenings so we could read our favorite books together and listen to carols. Cliché, right? But I loved it. I think that Chris was already overwhelmed with my decoration spree, though he bore it with a sweet grin, nodding with an easy “sure, baby…”

-.-.-

“Raymond, we have a problem.”

The image of him and Lizzie sharing that Christmas tradition together disappeared as quickly as it had formed. His past Christmases had been… _difficult_. There hadn’t been much to stop him from remembering blood and an empty house. There had been only ways to forget that, forget everything and anything. But this vision of clichéd tradition with Lizzie? Now, that was something to keep him from spiraling back into that deep dark hole. Red wished with all his heart to be in Hagrave’s place the last Christmas.

“Raymond, are you listening to me?”

Unfortunately, yes. Red raised his eyes towards the figure that had appeared in his peripheral vision. He had just opened the diary a moment ago and now Kate was standing there, looking a bit pale, a bit panicky. He had never seen that look on her and his heart missed a beat. _Lizzie_.

“Kate?” he croaked. “What kind of problem?”

She gazed at him a moment longer and then the troubled expression disappeared, a calm mask of professionalism sliding into its place. Kate, one of his dearest friends, transformed into his business associate Mr. Kaplan in the blink of an eye.

“Elizabeth has been transported.”

“That was the plan. So what is the problem, then?” Raymond said slowly, his brain trying to process the current situation. That had been the reason why Kate was here – to move Lizzie from the hospital to a more secure location when she would be stable enough. It meant she had pulled through, which was wonderful. However, it didn’t explain Kate’s reluctance to meet his eyes.

She was silent for a second and Red could feel an unknown fear settle in the middle of his chest, squeezing his heart painfully. He carefully closed the diary and tucked it under his left arm, slowly rising. “Kate?”

“It hasn’t been done by my men.”

“What?!” The sound that escaped him resembled a growl. “How the hell is that possible? Who authorized it?” Raymond took a step towards her, only partly aware that Dembe appeared at his side and put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Keep calm, brother,” he murmured but Red shrugged him off. He was nearing the end of his tether and he just did not care anymore how he looked and acted. Damn it, being this helpless was not a norm for him and Raymond was so sick of it.

“Well?”

Glancing back into Raymond’s face, Kate answered matter-of-factly, “Her husband, apparently.”

_Her husband?_ The journal fell to the floor. All the fight left him and his knees buckled, like a puppet whose string were suddenly cut off. His mind immediately conjured the image of Mr. Hargrave. Red knew that the boy was a talented actor, able to pull off an earnest, beseeching expression at the drop of a hat. And those puppy dog eyes! _Husband?_

“I need a bathroom,” he whispered but didn’t move an inch, his body limp and mind frozen. Without Dembe’s iron grip on his arm, Red would have crashed to the floor.

“This way.” His brother helped him to the nearest one, supporting him when Raymond’s steps faltered. He stumbled to the first cubicle and heaved dryly, on his knees.

It wasn’t possible. He refused to believe it. _Lizzie’s husband?_ No, it couldn’t be. Being hopelessly in love was a terrible feeling, indeed. Like being torn by sharks, like dying… but knowing that at one point in time, that love hadn’t been unrequited and that he had fucked up… Red crumpled down onto the floor, forehead resting against the toilet bowl, eyes closed.

His breath was leaving his body in quick gasps as he struggled to for composure. The pain that went through him at the mere thought of Lizzie being out of his reach was almost unbearable. The only thing that could be worse than this would be her death. Then again, in the state Raymond was in, he would rather see her dead than married to that bastard, rather put a bullet through her skull – and then his – than to live with the knowledge that she could have been his lover, _his_ damned wife.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, Red vomited what little coffee he had managed to consume. Shivering violently, he shook his head. No, never that, anything but that. He would kill himself first than harming a hair on Lizzie’s head.

Tears gathered in Raymond’s eyes and he fought the urge to slam his fists against the floor. Repeatedly. His wife, those two words were wreaking havoc in his heart and mind. Startling, heart-stopping, true. He would call no one else his wife, only Lizzie. His second chance, the ray of light in sea of darkness.

The clicking of Kate’s heels brought him from those dark thoughts. Soon, her petite figure appeared in the doorway and pushed Dembe out of her way.

“Oh my,” she said. “If you would just let me finish, Raymond…”

“Kate…” Red growled warningly. He didn’t need another word from her, not when she was looking at him like she was ready to deliver something blunt to snap him out of his pity party. Lizzie and Kate were surprisingly good at making cutting remarks and pointing the obvious, and both managed to make him feel awkwardly embarrassed just by looking at him like he was being an idiot.

“Mr. Hargrave, as it seems, entered our dear Miss Scott into the hospital register under the alias of Elizabeth Keen. You would surely remember that one of the emergency protocols in case of her injury was to use this name, with the head of her security using the alias of Thomas Keen, the husband. The boy did what he had been supposed to do. What dumfounds me is why the hell he arranged transport without consulting me. Anything you would like to share, Raymond?”

As Kate was speaking, Red wished the ground would just open up and swallow him. He hadn’t been thinking clearly. Otherwise he would have remembered that. He needed sleep, and he needed her, and he was not going to get either anytime soon, it seemed.

“He was fucking her,” he snapped and just the thought of it was enough to force him into a standing position. Now, when the momentary loss of control had passed, the rage returned. “And I might have fired him.”

Kate looked at him expressionlessly, and then passed him a paper towel. “If you have just dropped at her feet three years ago, Raymond, none of this would have to happen… _Men_. Now, clean yourself up so we can go and sort this mess out. Dembe, give him some chewing gum. I swear to God, I’m surrounded with children…”

There was a sound strongly resembling a snort that came from Dembe’s direction. Red wasn’t sure because he refused to look his brother’s way as he rinsed his mouth and splashed water on his face. Irritably, he asked, “What?”

“She’s right, you know. Now that you’ve practiced this whole dropping down thing, try to do it the next time you see Liz. Preferably with a ring with a giant diamond on it.”

Kate really had been right. She _was_ surrounded by children. Raymond decided not to address the jab. A man in his fifties like him was surely above being childish. He asked instead, “Uhm, Dembe? Did you happen to pick up the diary?”

“Yes.”

“Would you give it back? I really need to finish it.” Raymond now sincerely hoped that it wasn’t too late. After the scare of Lizzie being married to that boy, Red knew that he possibly couldn’t let her slip through his fingers. The image of her in white dress in a not so distant future fueled his resolve. Dropping down to his knees in front of her sounded like a wonderful idea, and he was a little put out that it had been Kate and Dembe to suggest it.

They walked in silence and the only thing Dembe gave him was a pack of chewing gums.

“Dembe.”

“Yes, Raymond?”

“The diary, please?”

“What about it?”

“Could you give it back?”

“No.”

“Dembe!” Raymond glanced around. Kate was busy intimidating the nurse at the reception desk, so he was free to hit Dembe’s shoulder. If the punch landed close to the spot where the gunshot wound was, it was merely an accident. “Now!”

His brother sent him a withering look but he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out the leather-bound book. “Do not lose it again. The next time it happens, I’m keeping it for Liz. That would be the end of your snooping.”

“Sometimes, you are too principled for your own damned good.”

Red snatched the journal and went to sit on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, already oblivious to the rest of the world as he leafed through the pages.

This time, he wasn’t interested in every entry as before, he was searching for something specific. Every time he caught his name on the pages, he smiled slightly, and every time the name was Hargrave’s, he felt like punching something.

In any case, Lizzie was out of immediate danger and that alone made it easier to breathe. She would _live_ and that was more than enough. Raymond, deep in his heart, was even ready to let Lizzie live her life without him in it. He didn’t deserve her, he knew that, and thinking about forever when she was so far out of his grasp right now was foolish. He knew that both his brother and Kate had said all those things to help him deal with his emotions, to give his mind something positive to focus on. He was grateful for their attempts to ground him. Raymond needed that, needed them. He would be lucky to have an opportunity to speak to her, and Lizzie wasn’t the type to find any satisfaction in his groveling at her feet.

If Hargrave was the man for her, Red would bow out gracefully. His jaw tightened and he nodded to himself. He would go find a secluded place, curl into a ball and simply die. He would do anything to see her happy even if it would tear him apart. That he swore on his daughter’s grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was mean of me, wasn't it? I know and I'm sorry. Stay tuned - perhaps have a look at my other stories in the meantime, and see you around : )

**Author's Note:**

> Well, wow. Do you think Red is going to read the diary? That poor man, he’s hopeless when it comes to figuring Lizzie out otherwise. Or is Dembe going to stop him? Anyway, I’d be happy to know what you think, so let me know :)


End file.
